The third day dawned the same dull white as the two before it.

The generator died just after noon.

Roman had gone out early to clear the exhaust and check the fuel. When he came back his expression was tighter than usual. He set the empty can by the door and simply said, “That’s it. No more power. We ration the firewood and wait.”

The cabin grew colder by the hour. Maya and the others stayed huddled near the fireplace, wrapped in every blanket we had left. Conversation died completely. Phones were long dead. The snow outside had piled past the first-floor windows in places. There was no path to...